Bikes I have loved

Throughout my life, riding a bike has made me happy the way few things can, and when something gives you so much pleasure, love ensues. These are the bicycles I have loved.

1. Schwinn Stingray, apple-krate red.

I grew up in a very hilly neighborhood in Oakland, CA. As much as I wanted a bike, my parents couldn’t allow it near our house – the roads were very steep and narrow. Grandma Edna lived an hour away in Woodland in a flat, quiet neighborhood with wide sidewalks. That’s where I got my first bike: a Schwinn with a sparkly red banana seat.
I loved that bike. I’d ride it around the block, on the sidewalk, for hours. A few years later Grandma thought I was too old for it, so she sold it. When I saw it was gone, I cried for a day and a night: apparently I wasn’t too old to throw a tantrum. She bought it back, and I didn’t get off the bike except to eat and sleep the rest of the weekend. Eventually I was too big for it, and I visited Grandma Edna only when necessary. This bike introduced me to the joys of cycling.

2. Peugeot 10 speed

When I was in 7th grade my parents lifted their ban on cycling in Oakland, and for my 14th birthday, gave me a 10 speed. I loved the idea of that bicycle as much as the bicycle itself: it represented freedom – the freedom to go anywhere I wanted. It was French, and evoked the mystique of Europeans who rode bikes around instead of cars. In the hills where we lived I learned to use all 10 speeds, and I learned to walk my bike sometimes too. As I rode the streets near my house, I realized there wasn’t much difference between the streets in Oakland and the streets in Berkeley, and that you could ride from here to there, if you wanted. Extrapolating this, I realized that you could go anywhere – even across the country. I was the first person to ever think of this (at 14 I thought it was more likely that someone stole my idea in advance than that someone else had made the same logical connections I did before I did). My dream of riding a TransAm (Cross-country bike trip) was born on this bike.
One day I decided to bike to school, so I could go directly to my paper route. My Junior High had a policy against riding bikes to school -- something about it being too dangerous -- so I arranged to park my bike at my scout master’s house, who lived about a block from the school. My ride to school that morning was uneventful.
After school I was cycling to my paper route; I had my mediocre report card in the back pocket of my jeans, and I expected my Father to express his disappointment for hours. I turned left far too early, following the lead of my friend, and I was struck by a speeding motorist. While this has caused minor problems with my right leg throughout my life, it more importantly killed my Peugeot. This blow crushed more than my femur: my parents were right all these years. Sure my parents were upset that their child was hurt, but they also had a lifetime of “I told you so”, which I’m sure cheered them up.
Six weeks later (after Thanksgiving and Christmas) I was out of the hospital on crutches. Six months later I was backpacking for a week in the Sierra Mountains. The Peugeot (or what was left of it) was stored for many years in a room next to the garage, a mute testament to my parent’s ability to predict disaster.

3. LL Bean Acadia Cruiser

After a business meeting in Boston I visited my sister, who was a docent on Nantucket. I borrowed her LL Bean Acadia Cruiser during the day when she was working, and enjoyed riding enough that I bought my own when I got home to Orange County, California. Mine was identical to hers, only men’s and green. I hadn’t owned a bike for 14 years.
I didn’t ride much at first, even though there was a large park with bike paths across the street from me. I quit smoking, lost weight, and was going to the gym every day. One day, on my way to work, I totaled my wife’s car. I couldn’t afford a new car, and I didn’t want to make life inconvenient for my wife, who was home with two kids, so I began riding this bike to work. It was 11 miles each way, with 22 stop lights and one stop sign. I added bar ends and a rack to it, and took it for a 75 mile ride, but eventually it wore out. This bike was a heavy, entry level bike, and my position on this bike was like a parachute. I was always working against wind and weight. Even so, it was effective transportation, easy to work on and extremely reliable. I loved this bike for introducing me to bike commuting.

4. Performance Parabola
In 1993 I bought the Performance Parabola. At the time, I decided that the perfect touring bike might be the Trek 520. This bike was about half the price of the Trek, and almost as good. This bike, more than any other, rekindled my dream of bicycle touring: I wanted to load this bike with camping equipment and take off across country. I rode this to work. I did a one hundred mile ride (called a “century”) every month, including one over Big Bear Mountain, and ultimately a double century. I toured wineries at the Great Western Bike Rally. One of the largest centuries in California is in Solvang, and I did that twice. I rode from my house to San Diego, returning by train. I learned to adjust the brakes, tweak the shifters, clean the chain, true the wheels, and replace the cogs. Eventually the bottom bracket wore out and when I went to replace it, I found that the frame was warped. After two short, intense years it was worn out.

5. Centurion Ironman

A friend of mine had an old racing bike he wasn’t using any more. I moved some of the components from my Parabola over to this bike, including my triple chain ring. This allowed me to climb hills much easier than it normally would. I enjoyed riding it, even if it didn’t have a way to attach a rack, and didn’t evoke the kind of touring dream that my Parabola did. I had aero bars, and started riding as fast as I could, which was still slower than most club cyclists. About a year after building this bike, I was struck by a car. The driver was young, uninsured and felt terrible; the police wrote up a report, and I was taken to the hospital. The bike was demolished, but I was OK.

6. REI Novara Randonee
With an accident settlement from my homeowner’s insurance, of all places, I was able to replace the Centurion with the 1994 REI Novara (in 1995 – it was last year’s model). Once again I could dream of an unsupported bike tour, although as my kids grew older and I grew broker, the dream faded, and I rode less. I was traveling more for work, flying somewhere to rent a car. During my divorce, I clung to this bike as I moved to Michigan; by 1999 I hadn’t ridden much, and perhaps didn’t expect to ride much again, but I still kept the bike, and the dream of a tour. In 2007, my bike was stolen – probably my step-daughter gave it to her boyfriend. Even though I hadn’t ridden it much in 10 years, I was deeply wounded – this wasn’t a bike, it was my dream. However, I live in a small town, and we knew where the boyfriend’s grandmother lived, so we drove over and found it on the lawn. It wouldn’t shift and the tires were flat (not a result of the theft, just years of neglect), so I brought it to my Local Bike Shop and had it repaired. He told me that it was antique, and that they don’t make components for 7 speed STI anymore. I’d have to think about an upgrade or a new bike if the shifters ever broke again. In 2008, I rode it several times a month, about 50 mile rides, from May through September, including a week on the Pedal Across Lower Michigan. I love this bike for never letting me down, for being there, for bringing me back.